


Savor

by Fatalfascination (luxillume)



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Food Porn, Sasuke is dragged into Sakura's shenanigans, Sushi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxillume/pseuds/Fatalfascination
Summary: Because who doesn't love some ninja nantaimori?





	Savor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElegiesforShiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegiesforShiva/gifts).



"If you keep moving, you'll mess up all my hard work." Sakura murmurs.

"Hn."

He slides his eyes open to track her, his swallow loud in the relative silence of their bedroom. Her attention is focused on the food that she's painstakingly arranging all  over his naked, prone body. She doesn't bother with the customary banana leaf between the body and the food-that is for an unknown body and she is intimately aware of the one before her. There's a blanket folded comfortably between him and the tatami, his head supported by a small pillow.

He is a presentation for her, as much a platter for food as he is devoured himself by her covetous gaze as she scans over him. The way her green eyes linger over every inch of him, nothing but the cool bamboo of the chopsticks touching him, makes him impatient to touch her and to be touched in return.

She adjusts her chopsticks and reaches out to set them on either side of a piece of sashimi, allowing him to feel the gentle press of the sticks against his bare chest before the piece is lifted and disappears between her parted lips.

Her eyes return to his body in a slow contemplation of the array of both flesh and food before her, and she grabs another piece.

"Thank you for picking up dinner, Sasuke-kun," she tells him, eyes sparkling with mischief as if there's a private joke there, and he only gives her a hum in reply.

She dabs the fish in soy sauce before carefully bringing it to his lips. He takes it, eyes on hers until he swallows. It's Hamachi, which she must have ordered for him because he knows she won't eat it.

She presses the sticks to his chest and runs them around his torso, tips together and then apart as she circles the displays of sushi, the sensation causing him to tense and relax. The unfamiliar sensation is oddly exciting and relaxing at the same time, until she traces the hard bud of his nipples and he finds himself responding quickly, losing patience.

"Stop moving." she reminds him.

"It's cold." he huffs.

His body is cool where the chilled sushi sits over fire-hot blood coursing through the rest of him. He wants her to touch him, and the longer she witholds, the hotter he burns. In an impressive display of self-control which she rarely shows when it comes to him, she refuses him, relishing the display before her of his body at rest as much as she thrills in watching him train.

"I can tell," she replies, the corner of her mouth crooking into an amused smirk.

He hmphs again and closes his eyes, lips pressing together. His muscular thigh twitches as the sticks lightly trace over his femoral nerve, sending a few pieces of maki rolling to the blanket. Sakura sighs and the slow drag of her chopsticks stills as she replaces the bite-size portions.

She leans over him, lips inches from his as the sticks continue a soft path back up the inside of his leg.

"Stop messing up all my work." She murmurs sweetly, moments before he clenches his angular jaw against a flare of pain along his nerves as a quick twist of her wrist has her pressing the chopsticks into a pressure point by the hollow of his hip. He's highly aware that his wife knows more than enough pressure points to kill a man without any visible damage and that the chopsticks in her hand might as well be senbon.

Point made, she leans back and lifts the tips of the sticks only to run them oh-so-gently from the base of his cock to the head, the touch sending his muscles flexing and his cock twitching as it grew where it lay against his belly. She repeats the motion between bites of the maki from his thighs until the muscles in his abdomen shake from the effort not to move.

"Hm," she says, tapping a finger to her lips as though nothing had just happened, as if his breathing isn't shallow and his dark eyes heavy-lidded. "If it's so difficult to stay still, maybe I should help you."

"Help...me..." He repeats dubiously, entirely sure with the look in her eye that whatever she's planning will not in fact help him at all.

She carefully feeds him another piece before she wriggles out of her shorts and swings a leg over his hips, strong thighs straddling him and the hot, soft cotton of her underwear coming to rest over the base of his cock.

It's the first warm touch since they started and he thumps his head back against the pillow to the sound of Sakura's soft laugh. Unable to help himself, he gives a light push of his hips and to his satisfaction the giggle pitches into a moan.

Sakura closes her eyes against the desire to sweep all of the remaining sushi off of him, pull her underwear to the side and sink down on the hard ridge of flesh beneath her and just ride him until neither of them can think straight. She inhales deeply, reminding herself that there have been plenty of nights like that, and very few like this, where she really gets to  _ savor _ her husband.  

When she opens her eyes again, the corner of her lips twitch up as she takes in the remaining pieces spread over his pectorals and down his toned stomach. Her eyes trail up to the hollow of his throat, a light sheen of perspiration there, to the chiseled line of his jaw. His hair is tousled across the left side of his face but she can see the lilac of his Rinnegan from beneath the long sweep of his dark lashes. There's a hint of color high on his cheeks and she thinks to herself how very  _ pretty  _ he is as she takes in the matching smug grin he's wearing as his hips flex again beneath her.

She moves, quicker than he expects, and digs the point of the chopsticks against the sensitive skin just under the head of his cock.

"It's rude to interrupt someone while they're eating." she purrs.

When she feels his stiff muscles go lax beneath her in submission, she removes the chopsticks and leans over to the take out bag, digging through and fishing out a few styrofoam ramekins. With the lids removed, she dips her finger in and tests them, dabbing them on her tongue and then begins smearing lines of sauce across his chest, ignoring the scowl he aims her way at the mess.  She pauses to feed him another piece and grabs one for herself before pouring a thin line of soy sauce down his sternum and between his ribs.

She sweeps her piece across the line and slides it in her mouth before she leans over him and eyes a line of nitsume that crosses his left pec. As she slowly drags the flat of her tongue across the sweet and salty notes of the sauce, Sasuke lets out a soft, throaty groan. She repeats the motion with the other lines she placed across his abdomen and hips until he's bowstring tight beneath her again and making the most gorgeous sounds.

She rewards his vocalizations with small presses of her hips, sliding the rapidly dampening fabric of her underwear over the underside of his erection, each pass sparking heat in her belly. Beads of perspiration dampen the fine hairs at her temples, and she drags her forearm across her forehead before she sits back with a sigh and her fingers slide beneath the clasps on her cheongsam. 

When she slides the material from her shoulders, she’s wearing nothing beneath it and her pert breasts are exposed to his gaze as she balls up her clothes and throws them somewhere behind his head.

"Hmm, Sasuke-kun, I'm sorry, how rude of me."

There's a twitch of the hard ridge beneath her and mismatched eyes fixate on the exposed skin as she reaches over and dips her fingers in the sauce she thinks he'll like best.

"Would you like a taste?" she asks.

His fist clenches against her thigh at the implication in her throaty voice and he watches her drip the sauce from her fingers onto her nipple. When she leans forward to lower her breasts to him, he surges up and latches on, tongue working across the peak as he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin. Sakura half-collapses against him with a gasp, the crotch of her underwear soaking through in a rush of heat and slick that he can feel and smell, his Sharingan bursting to the surface in an answering explosion of chakra behind his eye.

Sakura feels the remaining pieces of sushi between them, close to where she intended on teasing his cock, and groans. She wants to keep going, wants to see how long she can keep him like this beneath her, but as Sasuke releases her breasts and moves his hot mouth up her neck, she happily, needily concedes defeat.

"Please," she whispers.

Her hands are in his hair, fingers scratching up against his nape and clutching at his shoulders as his arm hooks around her back and there's a dizzying moment where the room tips and then she's on her back on the blanket, thighs settling into the notch of his waist.

He starts to sit back on his heels to remove the barrier between them but she tightens her thighs and shakes her head.

"Just rip them," she pants.

"Sakura, are y-"

"Please," she nearly begs.

His weight falls on her for just a moment as he reaches down and grips the sopping wet material in his fist, tearing the material out of the way before he's on her and  _ in  _ her and Sakura could cry from relief.

She doesn't cry, she laughs, because her wonderfully indulgent husband is fucking her into next week and there's sushi and remnants of sauce smearing between them and she's pretty sure there's maki under her ass and maybe nigiri that's pressing cold into her shoulder and she doesn't care at all.

When he comes, it's hard, and as he shudders and arches his spine into the softness of her hands on his back and bites the slope of her shoulder, the taste of nitsume is on his tongue.

Between soft giggles and panting gasps, Sakura reaches for the edge of the blanket and starts wiping the mess from wherever she can reach on him but quickly gives them up for hopelessly sticky and the blanket as officially ruined.

When she stands on shaky legs to head for the shower, she ignores Sasuke's amused huff as the food that was stuck to her falls off, and offers him her hand.

"Shower, anata?"

"I'll meet you there. I'll take care of this."  He nods towards the blanket, smeared with different colored sauces and smashed sushi. 

He watches Sakura swivel on the balls of her feet, her arms coming up to shake bits of rice out of her hair, his eyes drawn to the sway of her behind as she disappears into their bathroom to start the water, and he thinks he already knows what he wants for dessert.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments water your local writer! I'm not catering to anyone but myself, but I can't judge if I should provide more content unless I know if there's anything you like about the ones I have put out to the universe :)


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